Spring is a time of movement and new beginnings—we see and feel it in the wind and rain, in the determined shoots pushing through the earth, and in the currents of the streams and rivers as they, once again, travel around the banks and bends. This natural pulse of life is infectious and gives us all inspiration for change; whether it’s organizing the closets, starting a new practice, or painting the garage! But what happens when all that motivation and intention--the fluttering and tweeting, budding and growing, sweeping and whisking—comes up against a big fat road block? It can make us literally feel CRAZY!

I’m referring to myself here…after over a month of living without a kitchen due to a leak in the dishwasher, I can tell you that trying to manage a houseful of hungry kids, a private yoga business, and a somewhat organized household on a compromised set of hormones without losing my center has been found, well, impossible. I have been forced to bury my tidy tendencies as I step around staples and debris and sacrifice the once healthy, home cooked meals for carry out and cereal. With workers in and out and little (or no) warning, it’s been hard to guarantee a serene and undisturbed space in which to teach and practice. Basically, it’s been a flipping nightmare!

I wish I could tell you that because of my foundation in yoga I’ve sailed through it all free of stress and worry, trusting that all will settle with the dust and I kept my center throughout this entire disastrous process. But where would the lesson be in that? No yogis, I admit that after about three weeks I totally derailed into nutsville! With laundry piles as high as my waist and garbage cans over-flowing with food containers and water bottles, looking for permission slips and homework are tasks now met with the drama once-reserved for only serious tragedies. Sugar has wiggled its way back in as my BFF in times of trouble (thanks to pregnancy my friend wine now sits dusty on the shelf, sigh), and my children’s’ requests have been met with aggravated sighs and eye-rolls. All in all I’ve been surprised to find that with all the skills and tools to master disaster in my toolbox, I still tried to hammer nails with my bare hands.

I realize that the difference between the very human me and the yogi me is not that I am free of struggle or frustration, it’s that I now know how to slide back into the current again. I can identify when I’m clinging too deeply to the illusions of control and surrender to what actually is before me. And even if I cannot quite see that through my tears, then someone close to me has learned to turn me back around. This has been the true gem I’ve discovered, yogis. My friends and loved ones have so thoroughly accepted my yogic ways and perspectives, they no longer separate me from that. (so in fact, to them, there is no fight between the human and the enlightened, I am both.) In seeing my frustration, I have heard my own words repeated back to me, and it’s been quite odd to find myself with the eyes of the student, listening to my student as my teacher! My sister, also a student of mine, calmly looked at me on Friday and said, “you can only do what you can do. No one except you has any expectations beyond that.” And it so sounded like something I would say to her, I cried and laughed in the response. She was right after all!

And with that, like the clouds quickly making way for sunshine, my frustration and anguish vanished—almost in that very moment! That buzz I get from everything being in its place was here! That was my spring! The movement in my perspective! AHA! Brought about by the (very gradual and quiet) movement in the perspectives of those around me…through teachings I’ve handed out over the years. I felt relief wash over me with the soft pitter pat of this season’s rain. And I drank it in.